I know
by Slone'sTravelDreamer
Summary: I know a lot but I don't know everything.
1. Chapter 1

There he is again the old man who looks so lost. He's come into my parent's diner every day since I was but a small girl. He sits in the window seat from ten in the morning until we close at nine at night. There is not a lot I know about him.

I know he's English.

I know he prefers tea to coffee.

I know that he has an apple Danish with his morning tea.

I know that he takes a chef salad in the afternoon.

I know that he has that day's soup for dinner.

I know I smile whenever he comes into the diner.

I know I enjoy having him around.

I know that I had a crush on him in my teens.

I know that my time spent in college was hell without him.

Maybe today I'll talk to him…

Maybe I won't…

Maybe…

Maybe…

Maybe I'll just keep his tea coming like I have every day.

"Here you go sir," I say everyday setting his cup of tea down.

"Thank you," He replies softly like he does every day.

"Apple Danish?" I question.

"Please, "

"Coming right up," I say with a smile.

While in college I went to England trying to get over my obsession with him but even partying up a storm with my roommate there I couldn't stop thinking about the man old enough to be my father.

I know that I may never know anything about but I know that I would miss our moments through out the day.

Placing the Danish on the table, "Everything alright?"

"Prefect Love," he says turning his green eyes towards me and smiling.

That's never happened before as I make my way across the diner and behind the counter where I begin to wipe it down. My eyes never leaving the man who captured my heart. He's reading a book today. He only reads books in the spring. Checking to see his black gloves removed and I smile knowing that it was the first day of spring; a time for new beginnings.

Setting my rag down and I walk back over to his table. I take a seat across from him and wait for him to notice I'm there.

Slowly he lowers his book All Quiet on the Western Front

"I'm Elizabeth," I say with a smile.

"I know,"


	2. Chapter 2

Here I am again at Lizzy's diner. Lizzy is behind the counter like she has been since she was tall enough to see over it. I moved here not too long after she was born. Where here isn't important just that the sun shines three hundred thirty days a year. My seat next to the window has been warmed by the sun shining through it.

I know I will always be welcomed here with a bright smile from Lizzy.

I know she always brings me my cuppa how I like it: Earl Grey, two sugars, and a lemon wedge on the side.

I know she wonders who I am.

I know she went to England because of me.

I know I could never show her my London.

I know she always watches over me.

"Here you go sir," She says everyday setting my cup of tea down.

"Thank you," I reply roughly as it was damaged in the war.

"Apple Danish?" She always asks in the morning.

"Please,"

"Coming right up," she says with a smile.

Her smile could break any man's heart, too bad she uses it only on a man whose heart has been stone for so long.

She warms up the Danish enough to be warm but not enough to burn my mouth.

She cares enough to maybe to unhardened this old man's heart.

She places the pastry on the table with a quiet mummer.

"Prefect love," seeing her blush had to be the highlight of the day.

I watched her over the top of my book and smirked behind it as she fought her internal battle.

She finally moved back to the seat in front of me and I lower my book to look into her startling gray blue eyes.

"I'm Elizabeth," she says with one of her smiles.

"I know,"

"Do you have a name or should I call you Han?" she says.

"Call me whatever you wish," I say biting my lower lip knowing that I was flirting with the girl young enough to be my daughter.

"Ok Han," She smiled as one of the other girls brought another cup of tea for me and a cup of coffee for her. Leaning back into her chair with her hands wrapped around the mug; I studied her from her porcelain skin, to her stick straight white blond hair.

"Han, what do you do for a living?" She asks smiling above her mug.

"I inherited money from my parents, enough to never have to work." I tell her.

"Oh," she says getting the same look on my lovers face when he was confused.

"I was in the French Foreign Legion for awhile," I tell her unable to tell her of my real life. I had made up a story so that I could tell her of my life.

"Wow so is that where you got the scar on your hand?"

"This one?" I ask holding up my right hand.

"Yeah,"

"No, my aunt cut that into my hand when I told her my cousin had eaten all the cookies." I said and began to tell her of my life. It took me three days but I told her every detail within reason.

"Why don't you go back to England?" she asked me on the fourth day.

"Too many bad memories,"

"Memories are memories, good or bad they make us who we are," she said to me and went to go help the staff with the dinner rush. I knew her own history as I know it was not only me that pulled her to England but her blood. The same blood that ran through my love; I knew it was time to return home.


End file.
